The Great Outdoors
by JadeGreenStream
Summary: An expansion on, and alternate ending for the episode, "Ah, Wilderness." Richie was hit in the head, instead of the foot. Friendship. Rated T for some mild language, and a non graphic injury. Complete.


" **The Great Outdoors"**

 **Part One**

* * *

Fonzie wasn't sulking. _Nerds_ sulked. The Fonz did not sulk.

It just really chafed that Richie hadn't wanted his help with their little spring break camping expedition. Fonzie playing follow-the-leader was like a fish flopping around out of the water. It just wasn't right. He was born to take charge. True, Fonzie didn't know that much about camping, in fact he'd never been. But that wasn't his fault. He'd never had a father to show him the ropes, or at least to sign him up for the Scouts. Anyway, how hard could it be? He could toast some mean s'mores, and tell the best ghost stories in Milwaukee. And, if Fonzie knew _anything_ , it was how to make sure everyone had a good time.

Unlike Richie, who seemed to be missing the whole point of their vacation. Sure, Cunningham could probably teach them all how to survive in the back woods for a year, if they needed to. He gave them lessons as they climbed the footpath to the campsite: what plants they could or couldn't touch, what berries they should or shouldn't eat, what leaves made the best toilet paper… As if _the Fonz_ would ever use a leaf!

"Cunningham," He remarked dryly, "We are just camping for the week, not blazing the Appalachian Trail…"

The others chuckled, and Richie looked flustered. "This is important stuff, Fonz. It could save your life one day!"

"Alright, Rich, if you say so," Fonzie waved Richie on, giving him his blessing. "Go on ahead, teach your little heart out."

Richie nodded in approval and proceeded to talk about "safety on the trail" to his captive audience. Fonzie stuck close to his girl and kept to the background after that.

It wasn't that the Fonz begrudged his friend the chance to show off. But, Richie got funny when he was put in charge of everything. He was so afraid to fail that he became a control freak. Fonzie wasn't really interested in the sides of the trees that the moss grew on - he was more interested in whatever happened to his generally good-natured best friend. He didn't at all care for the uptight, whistle-blowing jerk that had taken his place. If it was anyone else, he'd probably have pounded some sense into him and been done with it, but this was _Richie_ , so all he could do was throw some pointed comments his way and hope he'd get the hint.

* * *

If the Fonz had been in a better mood, he might not have blamed Red for the tents - or the bear, for that matter - but, he was tired, cold, and hungry, and there was really no one else to blame. The old canvas tents they'd borrowed from Mr. Malph hadn't seen use in recent history. So, when they finally arrived at their destination and tried to assemble them (Red didn't help - Fonzie wondered if this was a "sink or swim" method of training), they probably never had a hope of making them stand up straight, to begin with.

The bear was just a nuisance. Shouldn't Nature Boy have noticed some of the signs that it had been prowling around? With that creature about, Fonzie's hope of sneaking off alone with his date that night was fading. He wasn't really eager to test his right hook against a bear.

Let it never be said, however, that the Fonz didn't give credit where it was due. Like a true scout, Richie had coaxed fire from a couple of sticks with naught but his own spunk and determination. Fonzie didn't know anyone who could do that, and he was duly impressed. Fonzie brightened up (not that he'd been sulking to begin with). Maybe the trip wouldn't be a complete disaster, after all. They'd sit around the fire and just enjoy being in the great outdoors under a clear night sky - no whistle drills required.

Then, it started raining.

That had really cinched it. Now they were _wet_ , tired, cold, and hungry. All they could do was retreat to their half-collapsed tents to wait out the storm. Fonzie had a rock digging into his shoulder blade, Potsie's foot in his side, and the tent was sagging within an inch of his nose. He took a deep breath, and harkened back to his anger management training years ago. He was pretty sure strangling Richie would count as going back on his promise to let him be in charge.

"Red?" He spoke calmly, but there was a warning in his tone that Richie can't have missed.

"Yeah, Fonz?"

"Did you… happen to check with the weather bureau before we embarked upon our little journey?"

There was a very pregnant silence that told Fonzie exactly what he needed to know.

"You know, Fonz," Richie deflected, "This moment reminds me of the great president, Abraham Lincoln, who once said, 'And this, too, shall pass away. How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!'"

"Rich… I have absolutely _no idea_ what you're talking about."

* * *

Fonzie didn't feel the least bit guilty about kicking Cunningham out of their tent that evening, and he only felt a _little_ guilty for not extending the olive branch when it started to rain again. If Richie had admitted that he'd been wrong, Fonzie would've been willing to bury the hatchet. Instead, Cunningham had turned it around on him and called _him_ selfish. The Fonz, who did everything for these kids, was selfish? Fonzie wished he'd honored Richie's wishes in the beginning and just stayed home.

Fonzie sniffed and rolled over in his sleeping bag. No, Richie needed a little time to think about his behavior, and a little rain never hurt anyone. He figured Rich could always crawl into the girl's tent, anyway, if he needed to. Girls were a lot more forgiving than guys were. So he thought, anyway. He didn't have long to think about it, because the rain had lulled him into a fitful sleep.

* * *

 **Part Two**

* * *

When Fonzie next opened his eyes, the birds were singing of a bright new day. It was crystal clear and beautiful outside. They'd all fallen asleep in a miserable world of bears, and mud, and rain. But, they had awoken in paradise! Looking around, Fonzie could finally start to see the appeal of camping. Here, a man could wake up with all God's creation singing in his ears, the scent of the pine trees in his nostrils, and no one around but the woodland creatures and whomever he chose to keep him company. It made him feel great just to be alive!

"Hey, now _this_ is why we came camping, right?" Fonzie declared as he stepped out of the tent. Yes, maybe today would be a better day. He'd go for a walk with his girl. Maybe catch some fish...

"Fonz, where's Richie?" Lori Beth innocently cut into his thoughts.

Well, how should _he_ know where Richie was? He was probably off on a morning walk, checking for moss on the sides of the trees. Fonzie's annoyance at his friend for yesterday flared up a little, but he chose to squelch it. After all, it was a new day. " _Do not let the sun go down upon thy anger,_ " and all that. He figured Rich was fine; he could take care of himself out here. As the others started arguing, Fonzie edged towards the bushes, unconcerned.

What he discovered there woke him up like a slap in the face with a freshwater trout.

It was Cunningham's sleeping bag, torn to shreds.

With his eyes thus opened, Fonzie observed with a sinking sensation the bear tracks imprinted all around him in the still-damp earth. Lori Beth's question suddenly took on a new urgency: " _Fonz, where's Richie?"_

Fonzie conjured up the image of a bear dragging his best friend off into the woods - Richie sleeping like a baby the entire time. He didn't want to think how Rich would fare against a thousand pound opponent. Why hadn't he let Richie into their tent last night? How could he have forgotten that bear was out there!

He frowned and shook the vision away. That was impossible. Cunningham had _not_ been eaten by a bear. Did bears even eat people? Didn't they just eat berries and bugs, and the occasional trout? Hadn't Richie told them about that, just yesterday?

Fonzie wasn't so sure; he had a bad feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with his empty stomach. Normally, he'd call Richie over for a conference, but in his absence Fonzie settled for Ralph, who was frankly quite useless in an emergency. Fonzie should've known. He should've asked Potsy. Ralph just panicked, and the whole group got excited.

When they heard the heavy footsteps slowly moving towards them, Fonzie found himself standing between the gaggle of screaming college students and what he believed was the approaching bear, wondering if Richie was really gone forever, and if that bear was the reason for it all. In light of this, could he really be blamed for picking up the largest rock he could find, and aiming it at the approaching footsteps? If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have at least waited 'til he saw the whites of the bear's eyes. That would've been more sporting. But, he wasn't thinking clearly, so he heaved the rock into the forest with all his might.

There was a loud shout that definitely did _not_ originate from the bear, followed by several _thuds_. Then silence.

"Do bears say 'ow?'"

No. Bears did not say "ow."

The gang looked at each other in shock until their feet caught up with their brains, then they scrambled with all haste into the bushes. There was a lot of screaming, then, and Fonzie didn't blame anyone for that. It looked for one horrible minute like the bear hadn't killed Richie at all, but Fonzie'd done the job himself. Cunningham was just lying there in the grass, the rock Fonz had thrown was next to him, accusing. Fonzie's limbs became shaky, unable to support his body, and he plopped to his knees beside Richie. Lori Beth scooped her boyfriend up at the shoulders and rested him against her chest. Fonzie's fists clenched against the dirt.

"Beth…" His voice wasn't working. It must be all the dust. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Lori Beth… Did I… Did I just kill my best friend…?"

He waited for her to answer; for the first time in his life he was too scared to move.

"No, Fonzie, he's breathing steady. He's unconscious, though." Her voice was shaky, too. The others were now crying, but Fonzie still wasn't listening to them. He looked into Lori Beth's eyes, and saw how scared she was. He took a deep breath; he needed to get a hold of himself.

"That wound - how bad is it?" He moved closer to examine it, and his chest loosened up a little as he did. "I - I don't think he got hit full-on. It's bleeding a lot, though."

A memory surfaced - Shortcake telling him to tear the tablecloth into strips, and boil water.

"Webber!"

Fonzie snapped his fingers; an instant and blessed silence fell over the group. Potsie knelt beside him, and Ralph followed suit. The ladies huddled around Lori Beth.

"What is it, Fonz? Is Rich gonna be okay?" Potsie looked miserable. "And to think how we all treated him yesterday!"

Fonzie did _not_ want think about it, actually.

"He'll be fine, Potsie, but we gotta help him, now. Give me your shirt."

"My shirt?"

"I need to make a bandage - yours is the cleanest."

"Oh - sure, Fonz." Potsie quickly disrobed, and handed his shirt to Fonzie.

"Perfect. Cassie, my girl, why don't you come on over and help keep Webber warm, huh?"

Cassie sniffled away her tears and ran over to snuggle under Potsie's arms. Fonzie started tearing Potsie's shirt into strips.

"Hey, ah - Ralph? We got any antiseptic, or water or anything to clean this wound?"

Ralph thought about it for a minute, then brightened, "Yeah - yeah, Fonz, Richie brought a first aid kit."

Fonzie nodded, and Ralph continued to kneel beside him, nodding back. Fonzie looked up to Heaven for patience. "So, go _get_ it, Malph!"

"Oh, right!" Ralph jumped up and ran back to the camp.

Actually, it's more accurate to say he _tried_ to run back to the camp. He took one step, then he tripped over a box and went flying.

"Ow! What was that?"

"It's a box!" Potsie supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, I can see it's a box, Pots!" Ralph's pride was bruised, and so were his shins, and he was irritated. "What's a stupid box doing out here in the middle of the wilderness?"

"Rithie muth have been carrying it," Susie supplied.

"Where'd he get a box full of groceries from?" Potsie asked. He started digging through the contents. "Look at this - Mallomars! Hot dogs!"

"Hey, where'd he find all that?" Ralph dusted himself off and peered inside. He reached in and pulled out a periodical, smiling. "Oh, hey, look! Hot Rod Magazine!"

" _Ralph_ ," Fonzie warned, "Sometime in _this_ decade would be good."

"Oh, right! Sorry, Fonz!" Ralph dropped the magazine. It hit the dirt by Richie's foot with a splat. He hurried for the first aid kit.

Fonzie stayed the bleeding on Richie's forehead with a strip of cloth. "What'd you do, Red? Hike all the way to the general store in the rain?"

Of course he did. That's _exactly_ what Richie would do. Walk however many miles it took to get to the store, in the pouring rain, while everyone else was yet sleeping. Just to get something to make his friends' camping trip a little bit better. He did it even though those very friends had yelled at him, blamed him for everything that had gone wrong, and left him out all alone in the rain last night, to the mercy of the patrolling bear.

For the first time in a very long time, Fonzie felt genuinely ashamed of his behavior. He'd been so annoyed at being a follower instead of a leader yesterday, that he'd criticized Cunningham at every wrong turn. True, Cunningham had been a little uptight yesterday, but for a friend like Richie - for Fonzie's very best friend - couldn't he have cut him a little bit of slack?

Fonzie unzipped his leather jacket and laid it over Richie's chest, tucking it under him.

"He _is_ going to be okay, right, Fonzie?" Lori Beth asked.

"Course he is, and I don't wanna hear anyone thinking any different."

Ralph was back with the first aid kit.

"Hold him steady for me, Lori Beth." Fonzie opened the kit and examined the supplies. "We'll bandage him up, then we gotta get him to a doctor."

Lori Beth's eyes were red, but she nodded and held Richie steady. Fonzie gingerly began cleaning the wound. Everyone was watching. Hadn't Rich told them something about first aid? Fonzie hadn't been listening, but fortunately, he _did_ have some experience with cuts and abrasions. When you've been on your own as long as Fonzie had been, you learned how to take care of yourself.

Fonzie tuned into to the group's conversation while he worked.

"Should I run and find help?" Potsie was saying.

"You'd just get lost, then we'd have to send out search parties for you. We should carry him downhill, it'd be faster," Ralph replied.

"How we gonna carry him?"

"I could make a stretcher."

"You don't know how to do that!"

"How hard could it be? We can use a few more shirts..."

Richie moaned and tried to turn away from Fonzie's hand as he worked.

"Here now, hold steady, Red" Fonzie said, quietly.

"Is he waking up?" Ralph got down and peered closely at Richie's face. "Come on, Rich, you can do it!"

Richie opened his eyes cautiously; squinting at the brightness of the morning, and groaned miserably. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Wha's going on?" He blindly tried to shoo Fonzie away, but Lori Beth grabbed Richie's hand and held onto it.

"You gotta let him work, Richie," Lori Beth said. Richie tried to look up at her. Fonzie noted that his eyes weren't really focusing.

"Alright! He's awake!" Potsie cried.

"Hey, Rich, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Go 'way..." Richie slurred and turned his face from Ralph, who was holding three fingers so close to Richie's eyes that he probably couldn't have given an answer, with or without a concussion.

"Do you know who I am?" Potsie asked.

"Pots-" Richie confirmed.

"That's good, Rich!" Ralph encouraged. "What's the capital of Wisconsin?"

"Madison!" Potsie answered.

"You're such a Potsie," Ralph grumbled.

"Hey, Huey and Dewey!" Fonzie snapped. "Would you _please_ shut up before I shut you up? I am _trying_ to perform first aid, here."

They both apologized and fell silent.

"Fonz, is'at you?" Richie squinted in Fonzie's direction.

"Yeah, I'm right here, Rich."

Richie seemed to relax at that. "Turn off the light, will ya? 'S too bright."

"I can't do that, Red."

"Head's killing me…"

"... I know... " Fonzie took a deep breath.

"'Don't know what happened..."

"You got hurt, Richie, but you'll be okay. Your friends are all taking care of you, now, so just relax, and don't think too much if it hurts. Dig it?"

"...Okay, Fonzie."

Richie closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 **Part Three**

* * *

"Thus ends my brief stint at leadership, Fonz. Instead of adventure, we're cozied up in my parent's living room, eating my mother's chicken soup, and drinking hot chocolate."

Fonzie set his empty bowl on the TV tray. He was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace. Richie was propped up on the couch, where the family could keep an eye on him, sipping on a mug of hot cocoa. The doctor had diagnosed him with a mild concussion with minimal swelling of the brain. He was given five stitches, and prescribed rest for three days, at least. The doctor was to be called right away if he got any worse, but Richie had been steadily improving since yesterday morning, when Al and Chachi had rescued them from the mountain and driven them to the hospital.

"Oh, I wouldn't say 'instead of adventure,' Red. I think we had our fill."

"It wasn't quite what I was hoping for," Richie said, gingerly touching his bandages.

"Don't mess with that!"

"It itches," Richie complained, but he set his hand down obediently.

There was a silence that stretched a bit longer than was comfortable, with Richie staring at the quilt his mother had draped over his legs, pulling at one of the threads (Mrs. C. would've smacked his hand, but she and the other Cunninghams had gone off to bed with Fonzie's solemn oath to watch Richie and wake them if there was the slightest problem).

Fonzie jumped up and started pacing the room. He was good at a lot of things, but apologies weren't one of them. He kept telling himself he was waiting for the right time. Well, here it was.

He cleared his throat, ready for his speech. "Listen, uh, Richie, I…"

"Thanks for coming down, Fonz," Richie was already talking again, and Fonzie choked on his words. "I was worried you were still mad at me, and my parents wouldn't let me go find you to apologize. Said I needed to stay here and rest."

Fonzie turned and stared at Richie in disbelief.

"Cunningham, I ain't mad at you. What put that idea in your head?"

"The trip was a flop," Richie lamented, finally looking up to meet Fonzie's eyes, " and I was a real jerk about it, too. You guys told me if you didn't have a good time, it'd be my fault, and you were right. It was my fault."

"Hey, now you listen to me. You may have blown that whistle more times than you needed to, and sure, you didn't check with the weather bureau before we left, or know that much about tents, but you were _not_ a flop."

"Sounds like a flop, to me." Richie slumped into the blanket in frustration.

"Let me rephrase that." Fonzie started pacing again. "You made some mistakes, Richie, but everything that went wrong was _not_ your fault. You took responsibility for it all, though, and you did your best to fix it. You did more than a lot of us would've done, and I got a lot of respect for that."

Richie looked up, taken aback at the praise.

"And, I'll tell you what, Red, I think you'd have been a much better leader, if we'd been better followers." Fonzie pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat backwards in it. He traced the top of the chair with his finger as he considered the right words to say next.

"Thanks, Fonz." Richie's countenance was already brightening. "It makes me feel real good to hear you say that."

"Well, I'm not finished," Fonzie looked at the floor and tapped rhythmically on the chair. Richie waited patiently. "You know your, uh, injury? I don't know how to tell ya this, but that's my fault…"

"Oh, I know that, Fonz," Richie said, matter-of-factly.

Fonzie's head snapped up, his speech forgotten. "What? You _knew_?"

"Yeah, Lori Beth told me." Richie grinned.

"She told you? And you didn't say anything?"

"Was that what you were upset about?" Richie laughed. "Boy, and here I thought you were avoiding me because you were still mad at me."

"I was not avoiding…" Fonzie trailed off. When they'd brought Richie to the hospital, they'd just said he hit his head (and that was clear enough to anyone with half a brain cell). He hadn't been able to bring himself to volunteer any more information than that, knowing that when he did, it might change the way the Cunninghams looked at him forever. Their friends hadn't said anything - or at least, Fonzie thought they hadn't. He just assumed the Cunninghams had remained ignorant of the full details. In fact, that was _why_ Fonzie hadn't stepped foot in the house before tonight; he knew he'd have to come clean sometime, and he dreaded the moment when they'd find out the truth.

Fonzie looked towards the stairway, "Do your parents know, too?"

"Well, sure, they needed to know what happened."

"And they still left you alone with me? How did they know I wasn't going to finish you off?"

Richie laughed at that. "Honestly Fonzie, do you need to ask that question?"

Fonzie gripped the chair, looking down at the floor.

"Fonz… You know it was an accident, right?"

"Of course it was, but it should never have happened."

"That's how accidents are, Fonzie. I mean, that's life. You just gotta forgive yourself and learn from them. No one blames you. Lori Beth told us; You took action when everyone else was terrified. You were trying to protect your friends, as usual."

"For a second there, Rich, when we found you, I thought..." Fonzie kicked at the carpet with his toe. He couldn't quite finish that sentence. "And then, the last things I'd have said... I was not acting like a friend should act."

"Oh," Richie looked at his mug of cocoa. "Well, like I said, I was a jerk the whole day, Fonz; I don't blame you for being mad at me. Actually, you were really patient with me. You showed a lot of restraint; I'm proud of you."

Fonzie shook his head. He should've known Richie wouldn't hold a grudge. It just wasn't in his nature.

"And, anyway," Richie continued, "Do you think one little fight is gonna cancel out _six years_ of friendship?"

Fonzie was still getting used to that, actually. He'd never had a shortage of people to follow him around, but they were always changing. Even his women were a revolving door. People in his life never seemed to stick around, until Richie and his family showed up.

"Fonzie?"

The Fonz smiled; he was _very_ lucky.

"Hey, Red, I never got a chance to tell you that ghost story of mine. It's gonna have you crying like a baby."

Richie scoffed. "Fat chance, bucko. Give it your best shot."

"You asked for it, Red. Wait a minute, we gotta do this right…" Fonzie hopped up, remembering to push the chair back in before moving to the fireplace. He got a healthy flame going, then turned to Richie with a serious expression. "This story was told to me by an old sailor, who's seen stuff that would make your toes curl - make your freckles run for cover…"

And, so ended the story of "The Great Outdoors," but there were many more stories for Richie and Fonzie yet to be written.

* * *

 **The End**

* * *

 _*Author's note - Thank you for reading! I've been watching reruns of Happy Days since I've been on summer break. There's not a lot of Happy Day's fanfic out there, so I wanted to do my part. I hope you enjoyed it; please leave a note if you did. I also always accept constructive criticism. I definitly want to improve my writing skills. (Also, if you see any spelling errors, I do want to fix those!)_

 _Until next time!_


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